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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998119">in the north field</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/macademilk/pseuds/macademilk'>macademilk</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Peaky Blinders (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Grief/Mourning, Loss of Parent(s), One Shot, Short One Shot, Vignette, canon-typical use of g-slur</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 04:02:04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24998119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/macademilk/pseuds/macademilk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Her dad is dead and Katie lives in a field. Despite this she has her brothers and her sister and she has Esme. They dance in the embers and run through the tall grass with their cousins, and Katie will never not be an orphan. The stars are twice as bright as usual.</p>
<p>-</p>
<p>  <em>"Esme looks at her, and Katie is 6 years old again, standing on the landing in a wet nightdress.</em><br/><em>And Esme knows what she really means is ‘We aren’t your kids. You don’t have to look after us’.</em><br/><em>Back then, Esme had changed the sheets with no complaints and made sure she was changed and dried before tucking her and the boys back in and now she laughs, loud and harsh in the morning chill."</em></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>in the north field</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is from one of my favourite poems, "Two-Headed Calf" by Laura Gilpin.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Katie has seen stars before of course. Distant pinpricks in the night sky, so very far from Small Heath. But she’s never seen any dance quite like these ones.<br/>
The grass of the field is strange against her feet, sparks from the fire glowing by her toes. She has never left the house barefoot before - it was unbefitting of a Shelby, but here she is the same as everyone else. The caps on the men's heads hold no razors.<br/>
She breathes in a breath of cool air and watches her brothers spin and dance and roll in the dirt. Behind her, someone presses a warm hand to her shoulder, urges her forward to join them. She does, and surrounded by Lees and open fields, she feels less like an orphan.</p>
<p>In the morning, she wakes early and stands on damp grass. Esme, beautiful lovely Esme, is sitting on a crate bouncing the baby. Her darkly lined eyes look just as they always do but in the pale light of the morning Katie thinks with an ache of her Aunt Polly.<br/>
“We aren’t g*psy,” she finds herself saying, “Not really”.<br/>
Esme looks at her, and Katie is 6 years old again, standing on the landing in a wet nightdress.<br/>
And Esme knows what she really means is ‘We aren’t your kids. You don’t have to look after us’.<br/>
Back then, Esme had changed the sheets with no complaints and made sure she was changed and dried before tucking her and the boys back in and now she laughs, loud and harsh in the morning chill.<br/>
They make breakfast together. Esme hums a wordless tune and Katie only nicks her finger once, the blood welling up until she wraps it with the edge of her blouse. She presses harder and harder until she can’t feel the sting anymore.</p>
<p>The day passes slowly, no ticking school clock to keep time behaving. There is no schoolroom to contain her and even better no Mr. Jenkins with his ruler. Yet she finds herself learning anyway.<br/>
They are camped not far from a river and she sits by the bank with some of the other children. A Lee boy a few years her senior shows her how to tie fishing knots. They sit side by side, her fingers getting less clumsy with every knot she ties. She can hear her brothers shouting somewhere in the distance.</p>
<p>Katie remembers how lonely Uncle Tommy’s house was, it’s long empty halls filled with ugly paintings, and wonders how he stands it. He’s pushed everyone away, and for what? She couldn’t bear to have her brothers and sister hate her because she’s seen the collateral. Knows what it costs. When they lived at the farm there was no Uncle Arthur stomping through the house, he wasn’t there to jump on or make Dad laugh. There’s no Uncle Arthur here either. No Shelby’s but them.</p>
<p>A damp chill settles in the evening and Esme bundles her in layers until she can barely move.<br/>
“I’ll not have you sick” she tells her, voice solemn.</p>
<p>She's stood in the mud, boots sinking down unevenly, listening to the frog choir. Across the camp a white shirt flutters in the wind and Katie remembers Dad's shirt billowing behind him as his body was filled with bullets. He got holier and holier and perhaps he got so holy they'd send him to heaven to be with mum. And many years from now after she had finished growing Katie would join them too. Oh, but where would Esme go? She'd have to join them of course but what would Dad do with two wives? He had hit the ground like a cup on the edge of the table too close to an elbow. Katie squelched her boots in the mud. People said Shelbys were unlucky. That they had the devil's notice. Katie certainly felt noticed, eyes following after her in the street, Peaky boys always just around the corner.<br/>
She wondered if the Lees could feel it here so far from the city, the weight of the air around them sinking down on them until it was hard to breathe. Her and her siblings, they were all Shelby children, where they went it was almost guaranteed bad things would follow. Did they smell of it? Did death hang in her skirt like Aunt Polly’s incense, heady and thick, and burning at your eyes?</p>
<p>Her Mum’s been gone so long she can’t remember her face clearly anymore, it’s blurred around the edges like a well worn photograph, folded so many times the paper’s begun to tear.<br/>
<br/>
It’s a cold night but Katie is warm, six Shelby children piled up together. There’s an elbow digging into her ribs so she kicks somewhere behind her. There’s a squawk and some shuffling which sends everyone into movement to get comfortable again. This is why the baby sleeps with Esme she thinks fondly as she settles in for the night. He’d be squashed before midnight. By the time he’s big enough to sleep with them the girls will get their own bed and Katie will finally be rid of her snoring, blanket-stealing brothers. The bed is big but not so big it can fit seven.</p>
<p>Life goes on. There’s always something missing in her periphery, like during the war, but Dad isn't going to greet them at the train station this time.</p>
<p>In-between moments she holds the baby. She stares at his little face, brown hair sticking straight up and round cheeks ruddy. He blows spit bubbles at her as she pulls faces at him, like their father would have done.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I really encourage you to research the Romani people and the discrimination they still face globally. By educating ourselves we can be better, do better and help fight for change. </p>
<p>-</p>
<p>I'm so mad that only one of John's kids has a name. </p>
<p>also yes there is some non-standard English that is grammatically shaky, it's on purpose thank u for asking </p>
<p>find me on tumblr @macademilk :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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